


birds do it, bees do it

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Trans Character, with a little bit of educational and high emotional value
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: "I've never seen Fitz naked.""What?"-They're an unconventional pair, which can make the logistics a little overwhelming, but with a some research, reassurance, and a nudge from a friend, soon enough everything comes together. (*ba dum tsh*)Or: FitzSimmons first time (UA) with trans!Fitz. Hard M.





	birds do it, bees do it

**Author's Note:**

> I have put a fair amount of desktop research into this, but I'm sure it isn't flawless or universal. I hope it is enjoyable and fulfilling as fluff and/or romance and/or smut, nonetheless.
> 
> I am accepting prompts here or on tumblr (@theclaravoyant) but be mindful I may take a while to fill them.

 “I’ve never seen Fitz naked.”

The words spilled over her lips one morning, surprising even Jemma herself. Daisy took a moment to swallow the enormous mouthful of egg on toast she’d just bitten into before checking that she’d heard right. 

“What?” 

“I’ve never seen Fitz naked,” Jemma repeated. “Not really. Not fully. Shirtless, maybe once or twice, but never, you know, the Full Monty.” 

“Do I want to know why breakfast made you think of this?” 

Jemma glanced around furtively, and then grabbed Daisy and pulled her out of the kitchen. Daisy felt a thrill of pre-gossip jitters run through her, and ran to keep up with Jemma’s as-fast-as-professionally-possible pace. At last they ducked into Jemma’s room and Jemma’s eyes sparkled; mind on a roll; tongue bursting to explain and in the process, discover. 

“I think Fitz wants to have sex. Soon. With me.”

“And you’ve never seen him naked?” 

“Not _really,”_ Jemma emphasised. “We’ve been in a few situations where we could have been naked, don’t get me wrong, he’s just about weird about the actual nakedness part. It’s never particularly bothered me until last night.” 

“I’m listening.” Daisy set aside her half-eaten egg toast and leaned in eagerly. 

“We were – you know – making out. Pretty hard -” Jemma grinned – “and usually whenever we start to get further than that, something happens. Like, say, as of recently, he doesn’t mind me getting my hands up under his shirt, but the moment I try to take it off, we hit a bump. So I don’t really try anymore. Sometimes I just go for say, a hand on his buttons, and he puts his hand on mind and we just sort of… steer away. Last night, he let me get a few undone -” 

“Ooh, saucy,” Daisy teased. 

“- but then he sort of… freaked out a little bit. He left. Usually, we’d cuddle or something, you know? But I think he was still pretty hot and bothered. He looked like he was in a rush to find a cold shower.” 

“No!” Daisy lamented. 

“I know!” 

“So then what happened?” 

“Well…” Jemma blushed a little at that part. “He wasn’t the only one feeling hot and bothered, if you know what I mean. I had this - this dream, after, and that’s what made me think about it. I’ve never seen Fitz naked. My dream brain couldn’t decide what to do with him.” 

Jemma grasped at air, the feeling of confusion returning for a moment. Daisy frowned.

“But – I mean – you’ve had ‘dreams’ about Fitz before, though, surely,” she put in. 

“Well, sure,” Jemma agreed. “But I just sort of, filled in the bits of him I didn’t know with, you know, bits of other guys. From movies, that sort of thing. It’s dream porn, it doesn’t have to make sense.” 

“So why last night, then?” 

Jemma sobered a little.

“I think… last night was the closest we’ve come, physically, to going… _all the way._ I guess I started thinking about it in real terms. I mean, dream porn is one thing, but it’s quite another to stand in front of your real man, your real life partner, and – and –“ 

She gestured helplessly at an invisible figure before her. 

“I mean, I’ve never seen Fitz naked,” she repeated. “That’s just it isn’t it? There’s no way Fitz looks like all those guys I’ve been imagining and, well, I started thinking – what… _does_ he look like? I mean, down there? It seems like it’s becoming increasingly relevant and I don’t want to sound like a pervert but… you know? What if he doesn’t have a penis? Or what if he does, but it doesn’t have sensation? It’s one thing to use a dildo of your own free will; quite another when all the erotic centres of a person’s body are out of reach by design! Or what if his penis is really small or something? What if he’s embarrassed? A phallus created by metoidioplasty can usually only reach two or three inches. What if he thinks I’m going to laugh at it? What if I _do?”_

Jemma dragged her hands down her face, the picture of melodrama, and Daisy cringed.

“Okay, first, _please_ stop saying penis,” she implored. “Or phallus. Secondly, as much as I absolutely would _not_ love to join you on this Fitz’s-dick-visualisation journey, I do see your point. Have you talked to him about it?” 

“Not really,” Jemma confessed. “I know a few things, here and there, but we’ve never sat down and hashed it out. He doesn’t like to talk about it. I certainly don’t know how he’d feel about showing me, or even engaging sexually with that whole… thing. And I mean – _I_ don’t know what to do with another person’s vagina! What if he has one? Is it still called a vagina, since he’s a man? Medically? Socially? I don’t know!” 

Jemma collapsed backward on the bed, and tossed her hands helplessly into the air. Daisy laughed.

“I think you’re overthinking this, babes,” she assured Jemma. “It does sound like Fitz is a bit deer-in-the-headlights about this whole thing, but let’s not forget he’s an insecure awkward prudish nerd as well as a trans man. He’s probably not used to that type of attention. Apparently, it can be quite overwhelming when you aren’t used to people showering you with prepositions.”

“That’s fair.” 

“And if _you_ haven’t seen Fitz naked, there’s probably nobody else who has except for his mother, so don’t feel like you’re too far behind on that one. Maybe you just have to adjust your intimacy perimeters. Maybe feeling him up through his clothes is going to be third base. Maybe he’d prefer going down on you first, to break the ice. Maybe try a strap-on, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going through his mind. Or his potentially small or non-existent dick. But he loves you, and he wants you, and eventually those things are going to collide somehow. You might just have to talk him through it. Let him know you’re not going to freak out or judge him or whatever. He trusts you. Completely. Use that.” 

Jemma felt herself settle, and sighed. Daisy was right, she thought. It was all about the pleasure. Everything else was just trappings. 

“See? Not so scary after all,” Daisy pointed out.

“You’re right.” 

“I know.” 

Jemma sat up, and Daisy affected a wise air. She gestured at the door with a slow, smooth hand gesture. 

“Then go forth and bone, my friend.”

Jemma snorted, and threw a pillow at her. 

-

That conversation, Daisy thought later, should have set her up for the next one. A few days had passed with minimal further discussion – with her involved, at least – and she was running errands here and there around the base when Fitz waved her, rather urgently, into the side room he’d set up as his office for this particular project. A collection of hard-drives in all manner of disarray decorated the room, but none of them were the cause of Fitz’s slightly frantic energy. 

“Daisy,” he whispered, like it was a secret. “I need your help.”

She tried not to smile too deviously. 

“Hard-drive help?” 

“What? Oh, no, those are fine.” He waved a dismissive hand at them. “Jemma help. I was wondering, do you – um. Do you and her talk about, uh, sex, at all?” 

He was desperately resisting the urge to scratch at the back of his neck, and finally gave into it. Daisy’s smile softened a little. He really was a deer in the headlights, and probably all the more nervous for having waited so long. 

“Yes,” she answered honestly. “A fair bit, actually.” 

“Does she talk about me?” 

“A little,” Daisy said, and watched Fitz’s face, trying to see what he was after with this line of questioning. Was he seeking her help as the next best resource to Jemma, or was he consulting with her as his intimate friend?

“Enough to know you guys are heating up a little, if that’s what you mean,” Daisy offered. “Why? Did you want my help with something?” 

Fitz blushed, overwhelmed with the number of elements of all this he probably needed help with. There were so many ways in which he doubted he’d measure up to Jemma’s expectations – or her experiences, at least – but one in particular he was concerned about. One he’d set his sights on for this conversation. He powered through.

“Uh, yes, actually. As… as you know, I’m not exactly in the typical situation… downstairs.” 

Not the smoothest explanation, but she knew what he meant. She nodded.

“And I was wondering…” 

“How to bring it up with Jemma?”

His blush deepened as he finished, quite contrarily:

“… does she have a favourite _toy?”_

Daisy blinked: alarmed, and laying it on thick for comedic effect. 

“You mean like a dildo?” she managed eventually. 

“Yes.” Fitz nodded. ”Like a dildo. See… there’s this thing called ‘packing’ that I can do. That I do, already, actually. And it involves, well, a fake penis essentially, and if you want you can get, you know, a… hard one. So I thought, if Jemma already has something she, um, _likes,_ I could try and…” 

“Match it?” Daisy finished for him. “I guess that makes sense. But why are you coming to me with this? Why not just ask Jemma?” 

Fitz shrugged.

“I don’t know. I guess I could, but it sort of ruins the romance a bit, doesn’t it? ‘Hi, darling, nice to see you, what size penis would you like me to stick inside you this evening?’” He screwed up his nose, and Daisy did too, but hers was out of amusement as much as disgust. 

“Well, you don’t have to put it like _that_ ,” she pointed out.

“I just want to keep things organic, you know?” Fitz continued. “I’d rather just kiss and… get on with it. The preparation’s freaking me out a bit, to be honest.” 

“Why?” Daisy asked, and then rethought her wording. “I mean, what exactly about it is so overwhelming? Speaking as Jemma’s representative in this conversation: all she wants is to help you. And I mean obviously, to do the do with you, but that comes later. Ba dum tsh.” 

“See, that’s just it!” Fitz replied. “Jemma! She’s – she’s had so much sex with so many guys, _hot_ guys, and here I am. This. _Me._ And every time I think about it, all I can think about is all the ways I’m going to suck at this. All of it. All I want is for her to be happy and – and satisfied, and I’m just…” 

“Asking her best friend what size dick she likes most?” Daisy suggested.

“Well, you don’t have to put it like that.” 

Daisy smiled, a little pitifully. She could see the weight of all this pressure bearing down on Fitz, and she wondered how to reassure him that _this is meant to be fun_ without asking him to just throw all his concerns away like they were nothing. 

“That’s above and beyond the call of duty already, bud,” she pointed out. “With most guys in the world, you’ve gotta take what you get. It’s all about how you use it, anyway, and I suspect the two of you won’t have much trouble with that.” 

Fitz snorted. “Well, _Jemma_ might not.”

Daisy snorted back.

“Fitz. Please. If you think Jemma’s not going to put you through your paces, you’ve got another think coming. That girl knows what she wants. You’d better be a fast learner! And so’s she. Whatever you’ve got going on – downstairs or wherever else – she _wants_ to understand you and help you, and help you feel good, and help you help _her_ feel good. If you’re just open and loving with each other, that’s all you can really ask. If you tell her how you’re feeling, she’ll help you through it. And I’m sure she’ll happily introduce you to her ‘special friends’, too.” 

Daisy winked, and Fitz smiled. 

“I guess you’re right. I should just talk to her. I’m really building this up in my head, aren’t I?” 

Daisy shrugged, soft and good-natured. 

“You want it to be special. I get it. Jemma’s lucky to have a guy like you.”

Fitz sighed, but the smile tugged wider at his lips. Daisy smiled back, and took her leave. When the door swung shut behind her, Fitz’s phone buzzed, announcing the arrival of a new text message. 

It was from Daisy. 

Dimensions.

(and of course, a winky face.) 

-

That weekend, FitzSimmons stole another evening to themselves. For a while, it was cuddling and kissing as usual, but with the question of sex in the back of their minds, they both knew it wouldn’t be long before one of them spoke up. Their hands were a little more hesitant than before, waiting to stop. Their kisses were not as hot or all-consuming, as each keenly anticipated a signal they were waiting on the other to send. 

The signal came, in the end, when Jemma rolled on top of Fitz and felt what he was packing against her hips. She lifted herself off his chest, and smiled. Here it was: the catalyst for a long-awaited conversation. 

“Did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

They both sat up a little, each surprised to find themselves a lot calmer than they’d been expecting. Fitz smiled, and though he couldn’t help but blush a little, it was as Daisy had suggested: trusting Jemma, opening up to her, was the best way to go. He never should have doubted it. 

“Do you like it?” he asked. “It’s not real, of course, just a rather nifty piece of quite simple technology, but I’m told it gets the job done.” 

“I’m sure it does,” Jemma agreed. It had certainly felt convincing. “But you don’t have to try and impress me with a… piece of technology, Fitz. I’m happy to work with whatever you have. Whatever you’re willing to show me.” 

“I will,” Fitz promised. “Eventually. We’ll have a proper talk and everything. I don’t mean to be holding out on you, it’s just – I feel better like this. Sexier. I’d rather show you this body, this me, for now. Does that bother you?” 

Jemma smiled, and kissed him gently, if briefly.  
  
“You know,” she said, her fingers creeping back to his erection. “There’s a quote by Vera Wang: A woman is never sexier than when she is comfortable in her clothes. For this situation it requires a little paraphrasing, of course, but if being comfortable makes you sexy and wearing something makes you comfortable, then I’m not going to argue on either front.”

“Um. Thank you,” Fitz said. It was a strange thing to feel thankful for, made all the more so by the way Jemma was stroking the front of his pants. He couldn’t feel it, as the skin below was all synthetic, but he could imagine how it felt. He could imagine that she’d turned her head that way precisely so he could watch her, though her fingers trailed quite an unassuming path.

“We don’t – we don’t have to use it,” he clarified, just in case. “I know not all sex is penetrative, and all that. But I mean, personally, I would really like… to…” 

He trailed off as Jemma looked up, meeting his eyes. In them, she saw a tumble of confidence, validation, vulnerability and love. It was the latter, she imagined, that encouraged him to gaze back at her, steadfast and undeterred by his own insecurities. His eyes finished his sentence for him where the grind of his pre-prepared erection could not. She’d never thought she’d read _I’d really like to fuck you,_ on such an earnest and genteel face. 

Smirking a little, Jemma couldn’t help but tease him. 

“You’d really like to what?” 

His lips quivered again, unsure what to say. Unsure if he should voice what he wanted, and how to do it, and not expecting in all honesty to have got this far. 

“Do you have any questions?” he asked instead, before they got off track. The nerves were starting to show in his voice, and he could hear his own heartbeat. He was almost glad that he couldn’t actually feel what Jemma was doing. He had plenty of sensation to deal with already. “Any – any other questions, I mean?”

Testing the waters, Jemma slipped over him, and sat on his legs. 

“None that immediately come to mind,” she said. “I agree, we can talk about the nuts and bolts later. I say we take advantage of the mood.”

She couldn’t get him any harder, realistically, but that didn’t stop her body from trying, gyrating gently as she smiled and walked her hands up from his belt to the collar of his shirt. She plucked a button undone. And then another. Then she leaned down and kissed his face, his neck. 

“Do _you_ have any more questions?” she asked of him, and Fitz found both his mind and his tongue to be quite blank. He almost wanted to ask if she would take her shirt off, but her fingers were already moving to the edges of the material. 

“Is this going to bother you at all?” she checked. “Seeing breasts?”

“No, I love breasts!”

Jemma snorted with laughter at his interruption, but it was not derisive. It was a sound of pure delight. Fitz blushed a little, but took comfort in her enjoyment – and, of course, in the vision he was granted as she tossed her shirt away. Then she returned her attention to his buttons, and though it took a little courage, he let his mind wander with his hands, over her legs and hips, as she made her way down, and pulled his shirt open and off his shoulders. He had a t-shirt under that, of course, and Jemma smiled at its obstinence. 

“Making me work, love,” she muttered good-naturedly, and crawled her hands up under it. “It’s a good thing you’re hot.”

Fitz leaned up and kissed her, and she laughed again, that pure delight. 

“You are!” she insisted. “You, Fitz, are a hot man.”

His hands, his tongue, his whole body sought her. She handed herself over with enthusiasm, inviting his hands to help her pull off his shirt, and then running her hands over his bare skin. He had surprisingly defined pectorals. Scars ran here and there over them, but she kissed everywhere, indiscriminate, paying them no mind. Her hands felt their way over his chest and his abdominals and back down to his belt, and she pulled it undone with ease. A scientist’s and a lover’s curiosity welded into one as she worked his pants open and found Fitz’s hands alongside her own.

“Hold on,” he muttered. “If we just – hang on, there.” 

Whatever he’d done, she hadn’t quite seen, but his packer sprung to life with enthusiasm. It was no longer just stiff, but erect. And impressively realistic, if she did say so herself. Then a thought occurred to her: 

“What do I call it?” 

“What?” 

“Well is it like, a dildo or strap-on or what have you, or is it like, your dick?” 

“Yes, yes, this is my dick!” Fitz laughed. It was not a sentence he’d expected himself to say this morning. “Unless they figure out how to make a proper one sometime soon, it’s all bits and pieces for me for now. But here it is.” 

“Well, hello Mister Fitz’s-dick,” Jemma greeted cordially, and wrapped a fist gently down the end of it as if to shake hands. Fitz squirmed.

“Sorry!” Jemma squeaked. “I thought you couldn’t feel it.” 

“I can’t – not exactly – but it is strapped pretty close to some… more sensitive areas. I can feel the movement.” 

“Maybe you’d best be in control then,” Jemma suggested. 

She hopped off him, much to Fitz’s dismay. Much less to his dismay, though, it was only to shuck her pants and knickers off and climb back onto the bed, taking the space beside him and lying down. Fitz took the opportunity to ditch his pants to and she beckoned him to move over her. He obeyed, a little hesitant, but content to power through on the high of love and excitement rushing through him. He looked her over ravenously. She’d never been as private as he was with her naked body, so he’d seen and touched it a few times, especially more recently, but with this moment and all that had come before, it shone in a whole new light. 

“Do I just –“ 

“If you like,” Jemma invited. “Or you can have a play around. I usually – well I usually like to be a bit more _prepared_ before the actual… main event, if you will.” 

“Okay, how…”

“Here.” Jemma led his fingers to her clit, and sighed into the mattress as he massaged her a little. Fitz himself was surprised to find it a satisfying experience. He had his own, similar pleasure system, but it had never quite suited him. Yet here was Jemma, relishing in it, and finding such joy in that little piece of anatomy that had seemed so out of place on his own body. 

Curious, Fitz took the end of his dick in his hand, and eased it gently against her. Jemma’s breath caught, and her hands clawed into the bedsheets for a moment. 

“Oh-“ Fitz breathed, his chest tight. “Was that-“ 

“No,” Jemma insisted. “It was good, do it again. Gently, just like that.” 

Fitz repeated his movement and watched it ripple through Jemma’s body. He kept going, sliding his dick against her skin, rubbing her clit, over and over as it grew slick with desire. Jemma hummed with pleasure, and rocked a little with the rhythm. Fitz found himself quite enjoying it too: watching himself, watching his dick, bring her pleasure. His skin tingled with virility and joy and some primal sense of power and love that, combined, was such a rush he could hardly believe he’d never tried this before. He was almost too distracted to notice Jemma’s hands, quite well-distracted themselves by now, searching for him. Trying to redirect him. 

“I haven’t – I haven’t forgotten,” she said, a little breathless. “Come on now, handsome.”

Fitz’s attention perked up. Jemma’s skin was slick and well-ready now and her clit swollen with pleasure. He changed the angle of his dick and slipped the tip inside her; a little at first, and then a little more, and then more, until their hips were all but kissing. Jemma’s hands reached out for him, soundless, and drew his face down over hers. She kissed him with the strength of feeling him inside her, and it flushed his whole body with heat. His crotch tingled and he leaned forward, onto the packer, trying to get his own friction. Jemma moaned as his dick moved inside her. Testing the waters, and the sounds, he pulled out of her a little, and dipped back in. It was a strange sensation, and lack thereof, at once, but Jemma’s hips swayed with it, encouraging. 

“That’s it,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck gently, holding his eyes entranced on hers. “Just like that. Trust me, you’re doing great. Trust your body, Fitz. It knows what it wants.” 

“It wants to kiss you,” Fitz whispered. 

“Kiss me, then.”

Fitz did, and closed his eyes and _felt,_ just like she’d suggested. His arms found a comfortable brace position on their own, where he had good contact and leverage. His belly and chest rubbed up against Jemma’s sometimes, with a hot electric sting. Their legs and hips brushed and collided, brushed and collided, until his own pleasure centre was pulsing with desire. His heart pumped, strong and confident and sure of himself, and urged his body onwards. Jemma gasped for breath against his lips, and did the same. 

“Jemma – I think –“ he warned, when he was close. 

Without so much as a stumble in the rhythm, Jemma wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles in the small of his back to hold their hips together until she felt it move through him. His whole body stilled, and she remembered in that moment, when she didn’t feel him cum, that he’d probably still have an orgasm like hers. 

Like a blooming flower, ecstatic warmth and joy spread from her pelvis through every fibre of her being, every limb and bone, every cell. Jemma sighed with satisfaction and let her legs slip back to the sheets, which felt cool and soft beneath her skin. Fitz pulled out, and flopped beside her, the stiff packer looking a little out of place against his quivering legs and heaving chest. He was breathing heavily, but smiling. Beaming. Jemma beamed too as she rolled back onto her belly, and kissed him. 

“Did you have fun?”

Fitz almost laughed. It was the eroticism, it was the exhaustion, it was the flush still in Jemma’s cheeks. It was the solid feeling of his heavy hips, of being grounded, of feeling so much _like a man,_ and like himself, and like that was the same thing, that he felt he was soaring above the ground. 

“Me too.”

Jemma pecked him on the lips, and cuddled in closer, nestling out a little place against his chest. Encouraging her into his arms, Fitz adjusted the packer so that it was somewhat out of the way, and then haphazardly pulled some blankets over them both. Jemma smiled to herself as they, and Fitz’s embrace, filled her with a very different sense of warmth. Fitz kissed her shoulder, and drew lazy patterns on her skin.

Individually, as they rested in each other’s arms, they marveled over how their anxieties had given way to such blissful contentment. 

Together, they thought, they could get used to this.


End file.
